3/4 Time By Barbara Ellyn

My denial keeps crashing, fear nears
I edge away, software tears here dears.
Gravity – bad. Cascades worse, mere tears.
Yet, frantic for ground, wings clipped, hobbled
wound and scars.
Can’t waste my pain despairing. Gone years.
Truth abandons what’s proper. Steers clear.
Facts matter less and heart more – have cheer.
Flee to yourself. Finding out, find in
wound and woven.